TELL ME HOW HE WENT FROM KID’S BOP 23:
GOD BLESS ALL YOUR MAMAS
Exhibit A. True fact: Was literally in tears laughing after making mine XD
Sooo, many more to come!
So tell me why I had a dream about partying with Harry, Eugenie, and the British aristos…and I got really drunk and mad at Melissa Percy for some reason… and told her she looked like a piece of corn?????
And then Cressida was there, and she had fucking fruit salad in her purse and she was trying to give it to me to calm down and I threw a chunk of watermelon at Harry…I don’t know.
Alright everybody! It’s Friday which means, A NEW WEEKLY FIC CHALLENGE!
This week’s challenge: The threesome challenge! Write about the royals/OCs of your choice involved in a threesome! All men, all women, two females and one male, devil’s threesome, you name it! (Bonus kudos from me though for detailed same-sex action!)
Submit your fics in all week!
Use the best of your creativity and have fun!♥
Okay… I know I’m going to get shit for this but…it’s truth time.
I did not dig Harry with a beard. AT ALL. LIKE IT DID NOTHING FOR HIM AND I CAN’T EVEN BELIEVE I’M FUCKING SAYING THIS RIGHT NOW BUT I’M FINALLY GETTING IT OFF MY CHEST.
Bae just looked like:
AND IT WAS UPSETTING OKAY I WASN’T HERE FOR IT.
I’M SO ASHAMED.
Steal His Style: Prince “Paparazzi Slayer” Harry
JARBO ‘Urban Chic’ Coat- $655
Junya Watanabe Mid-rise Boyfriend Jeans- $1,085
Versace Hat- $158
Burberry Giant Check Print Scarf- $395
Kate Spade Suede Loafers- $250
Alexander McQueen Spiked Yellow Gold Hinge Bracelet- $520
Gucci Women’s Steel Leather Strap Watch- $950
On god if a future royal wife were to ever rock some shit like this, see how fast I would name my first child after her regal, couture slaying ass…
according to the photos Harry read that story about himself, you and Hamdan and he wasn´t too happy about it :)
What can I say, Kiki? You inspired me :)
Here’s a little something I wrote today…
What I’m about to tell you is something I’ve never told anyone before. To tell you the truth, I’m not even sure I should be telling you, but I just can’t keep it to myself any longer; I’ve carried it around for so long that sometimes I wonder if it really ever even happened.
But it did. It happened. And today I’m finally telling someone this secret I’ve kept for five long years.
Back in 2009 I was working as a cocktail waitress in an upscale London nightclub, the member’s only variety where the rich, famous, and titled came out to play and could expect relative discretion from those around them.
It was almost blistering cold that night when I came into work. I was almost an icicle by the time I walked through the door but my shivers and teeth chattering at the frigid weather didn’t last long at all. When my managed caught me as I came through the door and told me who would be in the VIP section I worked that night, it only took about thirty seconds for my shivers and teeth chatter to turn into a warmth that pulsed through my entire body, making by breaths pull up short and my cheeks flush hot and pink.
It wasn’t like the presence of the red headed Prince and his blonde, bombshell of a girlfriend surprised me or made me nervous. They’d been in plenty of times and most of those times they were in my section. They knew me by name and although the club usually ended up writing off their drink tab by the end of the night, they always made sure to leave a generous tip for me, so it wasn’t as if I was worried about serving them.
The problem – if you could really even call it one – was that I was insanely and ridiculously attracted to them. Both of them.
I’m still not sure if it was the fact that they were untouchable, something I could never have, or if was the sheer sexual energy that passed between them. There was hardly a moment when they were there that they weren’t in some kind of physical contact, whether they were touching each other, kissing, or pressed up against each other on the tiny, dark dance floor. And more than once I saw his hand slide up under her skirt or her hand stroking him over his jeans when they thought no one was looking.
Those were the nights that I left and went straight home to my flat, forgoing the ritual of after work drinks with my co-workers in favor of climbing into my bed and bringing myself to orgasm over and over again as I imagined myself sweaty and hot and pressed right in between the gorgeous Prince and his stunning girlfriend.
And I knew instantly that tonight would be no different.
Except that it was.
Not a fic but more of a long head-canon.
You are shopping on the Champ de Élysées in Paris. Hamdan is buying you every thing you seem remotely interested in, including some sexy lingerie for later. The day is beautiful and you are in love. Deep in love if the Elizabeth Taylor diamond on your finger is any indication.
As you are leaving the Louis Vuitton store, there is suddenly a flurry of excitement from the press that stays camped on the Ave. in hopes of seeing famous people spending their millions. You move your sunglasses back on your freshly done locks preparing to greet Rihanna or congratulate Beyonce on her latest tour.
Instead you see a familiar head of messy ginger hair. You are instantly glued to your spot as the images of a messy break up during a stormy night in London play through your head.
Your fears are confirmed when you see the face on the head.
You go to turn the other way, praying he won’t notice you.
Your head is saying stay, but your heart is saying run.
Your Christian Loubotin clad feet side with your head. Bastards. This is why you prefer Jimmy Choo. They have pride and dignity.
"Kiki?" He calls again. The press is still snapping pictures. This reunion is going to be on the cover of all of the tabloids in the morning.
You face him and wave a little. Oh God. He’s wearing that ill fitting blue suit again.
"How have you been?" He asks.
Once again your mind betrays you by replying, “I’ve been well. You?”
He sighs and gives that sheepish grin, “Ok I guess. Trying to keep busy. It’s been lonely since….. Since…. Since that night.”
You nod. You’re sure it has been…. Not that you would now. When he closed that door, Hamdan opened a bigger one.
As if one cue, Hamdan walks out of the shop to join you. When he sees Harry his smile drops.
"Henry." His thick accent is dripping with disdain for the fellow Prince.